The Pale Tale
The fire took the library in an hour. It did not roar. It whispered. It crept across the oak shelves like a pale ghost, eating the bindings of books that had stood in silence for three centuries. Elias stood on the hill above the valley. He watched. He held a scroll in his hand. The parchment was warm. It hummed. The smoke rose in a black column. It pierced the gray sky. Elias felt the heat on...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior